


Sweet Surrender

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [59]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Neighbors, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: bellarke + 'i may be strong and independent but i can't for the life of me get this damn jar open and you live next door so help a girl out' </p>
<p>Summary: Clarke Griffin does not plan on being brought down by a jar of honey, but what she doesn't realize is that sometimes surrender can lead to something sweeter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Surrender

Clarke Griffin was not going to be brought down by a honey jar.

She glared at the thing on her counter, half-full of amber sweetness, but the crusted-over seal was proving to a bitter defeat for her. Flexing her sore fingers, she picked it up one more time. She grunted as she twisted at the lid, and but instead of the grind-and-pop of it coming free, all she heard was her clammy fingertips squeaking across the glass sides.

For a second, she considered slamming it against the counter to break it open, but her classmates would probably not appreciate glass shards in their cupcakes.

And it wasn’t like the recipe  _needed_ honey; just, well, it cut the taste of the whiskey a little bit. She had promised her med school study group amazing Jack Daniels cupcakes, and it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight if she didn’t follow through. Med students–including herself–grew vicious around finals week, hence her feud with the jar. 

She could, of course, meander down to the convenience store the next block over and get a fresh bottle of honey. It would take ten minutes tops, but after spending twenty minutes trying to get this jar open, she didn’t want to give the thing the satisfaction of triumph over her. No substitute but her complete victory would do now.

“This isn’t over,” she muttered at the jar as she put in back on the shelf, finishing her cupcakes without the added sweetener and with a frustrated scowl.

Her classmates raved about the desserts, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat one, not when her enemy sat lurking in her cupboard, taunting her.

* * *

Two months and five snowstorms later, Clarke was glaring at the honey jar again, this time with tears in her eyes and a nose she could barely breathe through.

All she wanted was some tea with honey to soothe her raw throat, and yet she and her nemesis were still at an impasse. She was ready to admit defeat and go purchase a whole other batch, but it was below freezing outside and she had a headache and  _damn it she just wanted something to make her feel like her throat wasn’t going necrotic, alright?_

_“_ Damn it,” she cried softly in the kitchen, because this was the worst cold and despite Step 1 being months away, the weight of her board exams were already weighing on her. “ _Damn it.”_

She was still staring at the jar when she heard the muffled sounds of classical music playing through her kitchen wall. With a hiccup, she swiped the jar off the counter and flew out into the hall, banging on her neighbor’s–Bellamy, she remembered, having met him at Maya’s Halloween party–door.

Just as he opened it, she blushed, realizing she was wearing penguin-patterned pajama bottoms and had the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up over her loose, tangled hair. His eyes widened when he saw her, but he didn’t look upset or concerned, just curious.

“Clarke, right?” His voice was deeper than she had expected, based on muffled conversations she had heard through the vent connecting their apartments.

“Hi,” she sniffled, wondering why she hadn’t thought to at least wipe away her no doubt tear-smudged mascara. “This is really embarrassing, but this jar is Satan itself, and if you could open it for me that would be really great and my throat would appreciate it.”

She stuck out the offending item, giving it a dirty look as she clamped her mouth shut, hoping her babble wouldn’t scare him off. Bellamy stared at her for another beat before taking the jar. His fingertips grazed her knuckles lightly, warm and rough. Flashing her a small smile, he tried to twist the jar top off, lips pursing when it didn’t budge. He tried again, face pinching in determination, and Clarke tried not to stare at his arm muscles straining against the edges of his short sleeves.

“Damn,” he exclaimed after another few minutes of attempts. “That sucker is on there tight.”

“I know,” Clarke muttered bitterly, getting a laugh out of her neighbor.

“I can run some hot water on it–”

“Tried it.”

“You have one of those gripper things?”

“Three of them.”

“You could just buy another jar.” 

“It’s personal now.”

He laughed again, deeper and more open this time. “I have more more trick up my sleeve. Wait here.”

She shivered in the drafty hall as she waited for him to come back to the door. Curious, she peered into his apartment, which was surprisingly neat for someone his age. She could see shelves stuffed every inch with books of all kinds, and a video game console with four controllers under the television. When she heard his footsteps coming around the corner, she snapped her gaze down, not wanting to get caught snooping.

“Here,” he said, handing her a bear-shaped bottle of honey. “Trade you.”

“Seriously?”

“Sometimes a good general knows when to admit defeat,” he quipped, eyes dancing with amusement.

Clarke sighed, which turned into a hacking cough, because her body hated her. “I suppose.”

He chuckled again at her dubious tone. “You need anything else? My roommate has a ton of anti-congestion medication.”

She shook her head then threw him a thankful smile. “I’ve filled my pathetic quota for today.”

“Happy to help anytime.” He grinned, and then a soft look fell over his freckled face. “Seriously, anytime.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, cheeks flushing as she turned back to her apartment.

When she got back inside, the classical music resumed, and she smiled, feeling just a little less like death as she thought of Bellamy in his apartment, just a wall away.

* * *

The next week when she could breathe again (at least through one nostril) and she could speak without sounding like a smoker, she left the honey bottle in front of his door with a neon green post-it that said ‘thanks’ with a smiley face.

The next day it was back on her doorstep, a purple post-it teasingly telling her  _No take-backs_.  _I like my contrary jar of honey, thank you very much. - B_

Her writing was a bit messy on her next note, from nerves:  _We could make another trade. - C_

His response:  _How about I take the honey back only if I also get to take you to dinner? - B_

Much to her chagrin, she had to write back:  _Yes! But it’ll have to be in a few weeks, once I’m fully over this ridiculous cold_.

There was a knock on her door the next Saturday night, and she opened it, surprised to find Bellamy standing there, smiling sheepishly with a large tupperware clutched in his hand.

“I made soup? And by made soup, I mean added some pre-cooked Purdue chicken and noodles to Campbell’s chicken broth,” he explained, holding out the glass container.

“Oh my god,” Clarke laughed. “You did not.”

Bellamy shrugged. “You’re sick, and I’m a little impatient. I hope I didn’t overstep. My sister says I’m overdoing it.”

“If you had made me homemade soup, that would have been overdoing it,” she said with a grin, stepping back to let him inside.

It wasn’t the best first date ever, because germs prevented the kiss goodnight she wanted very badly, but it was as close to perfect as she had had in a long time. So, as Clarke closed the door behind Bellamy, her stomach full and her heart fuller, she smiled, for the first time grateful that she had been brought down by a jar of honey. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr (kay-emm-gee)!


End file.
